


Buy One Get One Free

by kaulayau



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Comedy, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Murder Family, I literally typed in “murder” and that was a tag. my dudes. What are you Writing even asdfghjkl, I was feeling like a Wes Anderson film today bros, Teen Angst, many movie references! brownie points and a Pokémon if you can catch ‘em all, the Hargreeves conspire to kill their father, the hunsssss, then again I did type “murder”, to defeat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 02:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18240962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaulayau/pseuds/kaulayau
Summary: Her hands are folded like rocks, and her freshly-lacquered fingernails are digging into the folds of her palms. Her nails were red. (Klaus put glitter on them.)Now she looks like she carved scars into a unicorn.“Let’s kill our dad,” Allison decides to say.She waits and sees if the aftershock settles.border border borderThe Hargreeves kids get down to business.





	Buy One Get One Free

**Author's Note:**

> this my birthday present (or days-after-birthday present, depending on when you’re reading shshshsjjaj) to myself. Yay!

It’s summer, and a weekend, so they have three hours of free time. Only fifteen minutes have passed, though Allison doesn’t have anything really to verify that. They’re sitting on the sofa. Diego sits on its left arm, and Ben’s on the right. Luther’s on the floor with Vanya and Five.

Allison’s legs are up in Klaus’s lap. She pushes the buttons on their years-old baby-pink radio aimlessly until it starts sputtering in tape.

  1. The music is in Japanese.
  2. It jumps like a shaky handheld-camera.
  3. Klaus is painting her toenails.
  4. If he wasn’t, Allison thinks they would all be:
    1. Dancing until their legs gave out.
    2. Mumbling the syllables to the lyrics.
    3. Pretending they all were normal, or something that lasted forever.



But she digresses.

She goddamn _distresses._

Her hands are folded like rocks, and her freshly-lacquered fingernails are digging into the folds of her palms. Her nails were red. (Klaus put glitter on them.)

Now she looks like she carved scars into a unicorn.

“Let’s kill our dad,” she decides to say.

She waits and sees if the aftershock settles.

* * *

It does.

They hold a Family Meeting.

Five sits at the head of the basement table, because it allows him to flaunt his vagrant ego. Allison takes the seat to his right, since she normally does in these affairs — in front of her is Vanya, because Vanya needs someone to roll her eyes with when the going gets tough, next to Vanya is Ben, because Ben needs vocal support, in front of Ben is Diego, because Diego is easily upset and Ben is easily comforting — next to Diego is Luther, for no good reason — in front of Luther is Klaus — nearly perfect symmetry.

Allison adjusts the salt-and-pepper shakers.

Now it’s as if they’ve been ripped directly from the floor of an Anderson auteur.

It feels like an adventure. A path in an interactive novel. A fading scene in a domestic film, or a foreign one. _Frankly, dear, he doesn’t give a damn. (_ A classic.)

But maybe she’s thinking more: _et de ratage en ratage, on s'habitue à ne jamais dépasser le stade du brouillon. La vie n'est que l'interminable répétition d'une représentation qui n'aura jamais lieu._ (Failure teaches that life is but a draft, an endless rehearsal of a show that will never play.)

“If we’re going to start shit,” says Five. He disappears in a burst of light and returns with a large, three-ring binder. It makes the table tremble like a kick. Allison has to fix the salt-and-pepper shakers again. “There’s more than one way we can go about this. Yeah?” He opens the binder. List upon list upon list. Allison appreciates the organization, but feels a pinch of alarm. “We are constantly in close-vicinity to the old man. He is our father, after all. And I did a recent inventory — Dad owns twenty-two working firearms. The other twenty-three are non-functional. And a point-blank shot to the head will, most likely, end him. The shock waves of the bullet will stretch out the tissue in his head. Although —” page flip — “it’ll be a fucking drag to get out of this scot-free. We’d be running every day of our lives. We _could_ pose this as a suicide, but why would Reginald Hargreeves commit suicide? He has seven, perfectly-healthy seventeen-year-old children. And those children will be the first to be suspect. This route may be an easy one, but when it comes to something of this scale, _fuck_ easy. So the next option we have is poisoning. And this comes with its own issues —”

“I’m,” says Luther, putting a hand up, “going to stop you right there.”

“No,” says Diego, “hold on. Don’t stop him.”

“What’s the next one,” says Vanya. She glances at Allison for a second. “You didn’t finish it. Let’s keep the ball rolling.”

“I’m kind of,” says Ben, “on the fence about this, too. Along with Luther.”

Five bristles and glares. “What do you mean, ‘On the fence?’ How could we be any less clear?”

“I can understand _Five_ bringing this up,” says Luther, “or even —” he points — “ _Diego,_ but _you,_ Allison? This can’t be your idea.”

“It — is,” she says. (She knew _he’d_ be upset. For sure. She knew Ben might take convincing. But not quite like this.)

“I can’t believe it.”

“And why do I have to be a part of this?” asks Ben. “Five, that’s some graphic-ass shit. Allison — how — how. I want out.”

“I want you to _not do this at all,”_ says Luther. He looks betrayed. It’s almost painful. “This is ridiculous. What did — what did Dad even do? Why do — Allison, I don’t understand. He’s our _father_. He didn’t do anything. Why do you want to do this?”

Well.

* * *

AN (INCOMPLETE) LIST OF REGINALD HARGREEVES’S FUCKING TRANSGRESSIONS

  1. On their fourteenth birthday, their father forgot to tell them anything. It happens the same day every year. In the same way.
  2. The first time Allison told him that she loved him, he simply — paused in his pace, then kept walking. He didn’t look back. She was five-years-old.
  3. That was also the last time she said she loved him. _Hasta la vista._
  4. And on that note, he has never told her that he loves her.
  5. Well, maybe once. But he thought she was dying. He was panicking, then. But it took a couple broken bones for him to even mention it. _Nobody puts Baby in a corner._
  6. He locked Klaus in the cemetery house on Fifth Street three times:
    1. Once when they were six.
    2. Once when they were twelve.
    3. Once last year.
  7. That’s not the best thing to do.
  8. Stuff like that messes up Klaus for _months_.
  9. And Dad said it was for training.
  10. He makes Vanya blow things up, and Vanya doesn’t like blowing things up.
  11. She says it makes her feel like the evil-twin _Terminator_.
  12. But Dad says that the blowing-stuff-up is for training, too.
  13. Also, he didn’t include her in any of their missions for years.
  14. Which goes to show that Dad doesn’t do anything until he knows for certain that it will benefit him.
  15. But anyway, more things Dad does in the name of “training”:
    1. He once locked Five in a tank of water to see if he’d be able to get out.
      1. He couldn’t. Ben had to break the tank.
    2. In Ben’s case, though — Dad used to throw him into rooms of non-poisonous gas to see which his tentacles would react to the best.
      1. Ben has asthma.
    3. Dad also once gave him some sort of milk-drink that would allegedly make his reaction times faster.
      1. Ben is lactose intolerant.
    4. Luther used to be afraid of heights.
      1. So Dad would take him up on rooftops and make sure he stuck the landing down.
    5. And with Diego — Dad used to make the other six of them stand in a line with targets behind their heads.
      1. It was to practice Diego’s aim.
      2. Allison still has a nick on her ear.
  16. And Dad never apologizes for anything.
  17. He never says, “Thank you.”
  18. He never sticks around to _know_ anything about them.
  19. They all gathered and gave him some flowers when they were five.
    1. Vanya even signed a note with a heart — “To Dad.”
    2. Yeah.
    3. He got rid of those.
  20. When they cry, Dad yells at them.
  21. He doesn’t care unless they’re injured.
  22. They’re his trophies. His gold pieces.
    1. To their father, they are not people.
  23. And finally — he stole Allison’s necklace.
    1. The monogrammed one.
    2. The one that’s starting to rust.
    3. The one Luther gave her last year.
    4. That tipped the scale.
      1. She _saw_ him take it. With her own _eyes_.
    5. She has always wanted to get it cleaned. She always says so.
      1. The jewelry store down Eighth Avenue offers restoration services.
      2. Now she can’t get it cleaned.
    6. She told Luther that she’s never take them off, but.
    7. She has to take showers still.



Luther stands, almost in objection, or in grievance — but he doesn’t leave.

He looks at Ben.

So Ben stands, too.

“We have a motive,” says Diego, ignoring them. “But what about a real method? Five?” And Five reaches for his binder.

“Wait, don’t we,” says Vanya, “have fucking superpowers?”

* * *

HOW THE DEED WILL OCCUR

By night. On the edge of eleven o’clock.

  1. Although Luther and Ben have prompted not to contribute to this activity, given that there is a majority rate of participation, they, by default, must take part.
    1. So they’re packing supplies, and all of their necessary shit, from all seven of their rooms.
      1. For the escape afterwards.
    2. Five thought that running away after they collectively kill their father would be automatically incriminating, but it’s in their best interest.
    3. _Times are hard for dreamers_ , after all.
  2. Klaus will distract Mom.
    1. Diego volunteered for this part, but he’s worse at lying than he thinks.
    2. _A boy’s best friend is his mother._ It’s from a horror movie.
  3. In turn, Diego will be the look-out.
    1. Klaus does this part most of the time, anyway.
  4. Five will find the appropriate weaponry they need, once they run away.
    1. Turns out he’s been planning this for years.
  5. Vanya is the fall-back plan.
    1. Telekinesis is unexpectedly versatile.
  6. They have drafted a note for Pogo.
    1. (And Mom.)
    2. Pogo will be the one most surprised about this.
      1. Besides Dad, of course.
    3. But they think he will understand.
  7. And Allison will deliver the blow.



* * *

THE DEED

  1. Allison will open his office door. Reload pistol. Configure barrel. “You ever read the Bible, Brett?” She won’t remember the rest of the quote — Samuel L. Jackson does it better. Then — one, two, three, four, five, six, seven — _bang-bang_ — will she get all into his neck? She’ll shoot his chair. Perhaps in a pattern? Maybe —



No. They’ve all agreed that it would make too much sound. Well, all of them except Luther and Ben.

  1. Allison will open his office door. Unsheathe sword. “Here’s Johnny.” Once across his stomach. Once bisecting, once dissecting. A slice like cake. A slice like lumber, until she sees his small intestine —



She doesn’t have the technical skill. Diego should have done it, if they’re going to go with the blade.

  1. Allison will open his office door. “Say hello to my little friend.” And she will kill him.



Vanya tells her to use her voice. So Allison is going to.

* * *

ALLISON’S LINES

  1. She heard a rumor that her father fell asleep.
  2. She heard a rumor that he never woke up again.



* * *

Allison has never considered whether she is immune to her own voice. But she practices anyway.

These are the most important words she will ever say in her life.

She’s never done anything worthwhile.

It’s because of her father. (Of _their_ father.)

She sits at her mirror. She puts on her mask and smoothes her skirt. She makes sure her socks aren’t slipping away.

Lip-gloss.

Hand-lotion.

And then.

WHAT ALLISON FINDS

  1. A box.
  2. Her necklace.
    1. The monogrammed one.
    2. There’s no rust on it.
    3. The necklace is clean.
      1. The jewelry store down Eighth Avenue offers restoration services.
      2. She’s never gotten around to it. She always says so.



Shit.

* * *

Allison opens his office door.

On his desk, there’s a vase she never noticed. (She’s never really taken a look at his desk.)

Flowers, long dead. A note. “To Dad,” with a heart.

A (BRIEF) LIST OF REGINALD HARGREEVES’S SO-CALLED AND SHITTY RECONCILIATIONS

Never mind that. _It's mercy, compassion, and forgiveness she lacks. Not rationality._

  1. The last time he told Allison that he loved her, every bone was broken in her body. He thought she was dying. She remembers seeing fog, and that he didn’t leave her side.
    1. But when she woke up feeling better, she woke up alone.



She’s making that up. _He’s_ making that up. He _wants_ her to think that way.

  1. “Well done,” he says, when they’ve accomplished something. A rescue. A faster time. “Well done, Number One. Well done, Number Two. Well done, Number Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven.”
    1. And that’s all.
  2. He hangs up all their trophies and plaques.
    1. Whenever there’s a new magazine article about them, he clips and frames it.
    2. Whenever they do interviews, he makes sure they are recorded.



Those are stupid and simple. They do not apply.

  1. On every birthday, they still get presents.
    1. Klaus gets hypoallergenic earrings.
      1. He pierces his own cartilage.
    2. Luther gets winter coats and bench-press dumbbells.
      1. He grows out of them too quickly.
    3. Vanya gets rosin boxes.
      1. She likes the stuff with designs.
    4. Ben gets a new five-hundred-page book.
      1. He finishes those in two weeks.
    5. Five keeps getting microscopes.
      1. He’s always breaking them, and then complaining.
    6. Diego gets origami paper.
      1. He loves the shurikens, and the cranes.
    7. Allison gets a movie to watch.
      1. Or music for their baby-pink radio.



He’s _not_ a good person. He’s a _bad_ person, and despite that, Allison and her siblings have turned out fine. That’s _without_ him.

  1. Dad hates hot chocolate — and anything with sugar — but keeps it around the house in the winter.
    1. The seven of them drink it every morning in December, and have been since they were fifteen.
  2. They get new portraits painted each year.
    1. He’s let them pick the artist once they turned thirteen.



So what if he’s done a _single_ good thing? More than one? A handful of enumerations?

  1. A couple years ago, Ben was unconscious — spent and torn — after a foil gone wrong.
    1. The press were hounding their car.
    2. Dad basically ran them over trying to break out.
    3. If they’d stayed there any longer, Ben might have died.



But these aren’t good things.

  1. He wants them to succeed, in his own malnourished way.



These come with the work. These come with being a parent — with being a _dad._ He doesn’t get points or credit for doing the bare minimum.

  1. There are the wilted flowers in a vase.
    1. And there are the old drawings that the seven of them made, done in crayon and pencil, scattered throughout his office.
    2. The old Play-Doh statues, too.
      1. Atop cabinets.
      2. Between documents.
    3. They stopped making things once they hit five-years-old.



The good things he has done do not cancel the bad. 

The goddamned bad things he has done don’t cancel the good.

Then — then what? _Then_ what?

  1. Allison’s necklace.



She wants it to be simple.

Opening shot. Second act. Denouement. Credits.

“Number Three,” says her father, “is there a _reason_ you have interrupted my evening?”

THE ONE THING ALLISON KNOWS FOR CERTAIN

  1. She can’t spend another second in this house.



“I heard a rumor,” she says, “that you fell asleep.”

* * *

Her siblings are waiting outside. They are packed heavy with baggage.

Luther does not look at her.

Ben chews on his lip. 

“I didn’t do it,” Allison says. She takes off her mask. “But we still have to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. I don’t know.”

They don’t say anything.

For a second, they all look so _sorry_.

“Did he hurt you?” Ben asks.

Oh. “Not on purpose. But.” She shrugs.

Luther notices that she’s wearing the necklace.

“Wasn’t that what you wanted?” he says. She doesn’t know how to respond. “Why wouldn’t you — what made you —” instead of speaking, he shakes his head.

“Well,” says Diego. “I don’t think we thought as far as the _where_. The bus still runs at this hour, but…”

“I don’t think it matters,” says Five. He still has his binder. “We can go wherever and whenever we want.”

“We’re never going back,” says Vanya, half with realization. She carries her plastic violin case.

Klaus tilts his head down. He’s got their old radio. “Not until we run out of money.”

 “We’ll make it up as we go along,” Allison tells them.

A moment of silence for a life that was not lost.

Pity is not deserved. 

 _Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain._ (It’s her favorite.)

Family Meeting. 

They start the trek.

* * *

A LIST OF THINGS THAT _ACTUALLY_ MATTER, MAYBE

  1. Vanya.
  2. Ben.
  3. Five.
  4. Klaus.
  5. Diego.
  6. Luther.
  7. Allison.



But maybe not.

It’ll come to her.

**Author's Note:**

> I have mixed feelings about the Dad but he’s an interesting character
> 
> [if this was a short film this would be the song playing at the beginning and the end](https://youtu.be/9Gj47G2e1Jc)
> 
> also, [this is the hargreeves and reginald](https://youtu.be/pJHRCv5P4hc)
> 
> [let’s ramble about headcanons on tumblr and stuff my dudes](https://kaulayau.tumblr.com)
> 
> [and come join my TUA Discord server it’s super crazy with a lot of cool city pop bops](https://discord.gg/muPgAGv)


End file.
